No Stain, No Rain

I didn't take a single picture, you know.
The whole time I went on this pilgrimage of mine.
Not that I'm sure I'd have anything to photograph, really.
A slew of comics performing better than me.
The most photogenic moment I experienced was outside of the St. Catherine Starbucks.
I was waiting for Jane (Stanton. Redheaded. Boisterous) and Lars (Callieou. Brunette. Road rager) to buy whatever.
And I look up just in time to see this massive papier mache head roll by.
On a forklift.
I eventually managed to find the heads on Facefuck.
But they haven't responded to my friend request yet.
I spent a lot of time on that street.
Looking for women wearing white dresses, primarily.
Or, at the very least, a light yellow.
There were suckers dressed in full nylon outfits.
Handing out pamphlets for Zoo Fest (No animals. I checked).
Head to toe.
Imagine a nylon "onesie."
Garishly coloured and dotted with unflattering sweat stains.
Now attach a hood to that.
With no orifice holes whatsoever.
I got close to one of them and they had all sorts of spittle stains around their mouth.
It was nearly 30 degrees most of the time I was there.
What a job.
I'd rather pump gas.